


A Parrot's Tail

by ElDiablito_SF, Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical love of cheese, Established Relationship, M/M, Ridiculousness, The Parrot has a dirty mouth, parrot!Flint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:06:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8206694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: WORST LOVER'S QUARREL EVERThe same demented minds who brought you mersir!Silver, now bring you parrot!Flint.  You're welcome, fandom!





	1. In which Flint throws a temper tantrum

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://s83.photobucket.com/user/athosesk/media/tumblr_inline_oejcx5qVvg1rshgzf_500.jpg.html)   
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> Art by [Hithelleth](hithelleth.tumblr.com) XD

John Silver was a reasonable man. He only stole when he needed something badly, lied when telling the truth wouldn’t help him achieve his goals, and killed only in cases when the other person really, really deserved it. And sometimes, entirely by accident. Was it his fault that the man currently impaled on his sword was clumsy and fell on it while Silver had been holding it before him, in peaceful self-defense? Three times? No, he did not think so.

He certainly did not deserve being berated for it, and by the look on Captain Flint’s face, he was about to get some kind of an earful.

“Fuck’s sakes, Silver! We needed him _alive_! It was your own bloody plan to keep him _alive_!” 

Silver pulled the blade out, the man’s carcass falling at his feet, his sword spraying the boards in crimson. Before he could think of a sufficiently clever retort, he was being manhandled back across the gangplank and onto the deck of the _Walrus_ , and then Flint was breathing dragon fire right into his face.

“You’re getting careless! Far too cocky for your own good! You’re going to get yourself ki--” It seemed an opportune moment to shut the captain up by shoving his tongue down his throat. That usually did the trick.

“Shut up, James!”

“Oh, don’t try and handle me!” But he hadn’t exactly pushed Silver away. No, indeed, he had leaned forward and nipped on Silver’s lower lip. “You’re reckless and… ah!”

Flint wasn’t the only one capable of manhandling, and Silver smirked into his lover’s mouth while his hand wrapped firmly around Flint’s sack and rolled his balls between his fingers.

“Take a load off, Captain,” Silver whispered. “We claimed the prize. The day is won. There is no reason to try and pick a fight with me. I promise: I’m already pretty worked up. See?” He pressed forward, against Flint’s body, his own growing erection proudly prodding against the tightness of the captain’s breeches.

“John…” For a moment, Flint hovered somewhere between resignation and exasperation. And then, he simply pushed Silver backwards, until they both toppled over onto the cot they had shared more often than not in the last year.

He did love coupling with Flint when they were in this state: their blood boiling with rage, bones buzzing with the thrill of victory. When Flint was more teeth than lips, and more claws than fingers. And Silver could clamp down around him with what was left of his legs, and ride him like an incubus, wet and wild, all night long. He was sincerely hoping this would turn into another night such as that.

Truth be told, Silver was feeling pretty giving at the moment, and not just because he was in a good mood since he got to kill someone who either really deserved it or was very clumsy. They’d had a streak of good luck, and good fortune had to be shared. And Silver was nothing if not a generous lover. His ass was a gift, and he presented it to Flint by turning himself over and bracing his hands against the cabin’s wall.

Fingers bit into his hips, pulling him backwards; the hard, hot length of Flint's cock pressed between his ass cheeks. But his lover held infuriatingly still, leaning over. His words growled against Silver's ear. "Tell me you'll listen next time."

It was most certainly _not_ the reaction Silver had expected when he'd oh so kindly offered his ass. "Fuck me long and hard and I'll think about it."

"That's not what I said." Flint's hips circled against him, heated flesh rubbing over flesh, equal parts pleasure and madness.

There were moments in which Silver cared very much about keeping up appearances, and moments in which he let it slip. "I fail to see why this is so bloody important to you right now!"

"It's important," Flint hissed, punctuating his words with another grinding thrust, "because my ship is important."

"I beg your pardon - _your_ ship? Don't you mean _our_ ship?"

"Because on _my_ ship," Flint hissed again, "keeping order is important."

Part of Silver began to sense that the dicking he was craving was quickly slipping through his fingers. All he'd wanted was a good angry fuck! A hot knot of rebellion burned in his core, though, unable to let the argument slide. "Just like it was important when you slit that cocky Spanish captain's throat just for mocking you?"

Fortunately before the matter could escalate even more, a loud banging shook the cabin door. "Mr. Silver!"

"What!" Flint hollered in the direction of the door. Silver growled - in frustration, at least, he and Flint agreed. Fucking Gunn. Why hadn't they marooned that little shit the last time that he'd interrupted them?

For a moment there was a brief pause. Then a tentative reply. "Begging your pardon, Captain. I was hoping to ask Mr. Silver if he could come examine the loot?"

"Goddammit, man. Have Billy do it!" Silver yelled out, only to hear Flint growl.

"I'm the goddamn Captain, here. I give the orders! Gunn, tell Billy Bones to examine the goddamn loot him-bloody-self!"

"That's exactly what I just said!"

"You said it with far less panache."

"Me? I have more panache in my remaining big toe than you do in your entire body!"

“Well, I suppose then you think you can run this crew without me, is that it? Be both quartermaster and captain?”

“So, what if I do? You know the men would follow me anywhere, even unto death!”

“Then I guess you don’t need me anymore!”

Where the fuck was this going? Silver wanted to say something clever to de-escalate the situation that was getting somehow very rapidly out of hand. He was certainly not going to get fucked at this rate, and that thought alone made him kind of depressed. Besides, he didn’t really _mean_ what he was saying…

“Yeah maybe I don’t!” But _shit_ , he said it anyways. Oops.

“Well, fine then! See how well you do without me!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Wait. What? _Fuck._

“James?”

Silver had only turned for a moment, really just to tuck his dick back into his trousers. It was very difficult to hold sway and seem morally superior when your cock was hanging out for all to see. So, where the fuck had Flint gone in that one moment? 

The cabin, somehow, stood completely empty, the door still barred from the inside, the storm windows firmly latched.

“Come on, James. Where the fuck did you hide? This is rather childish, don’t you think?”

All of a sudden, a flash of bright colors streaked across Silver’s vision, and then a ball of feathers and claws lunged for his hair, while screeching “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!” at the top of its lungs.

“What the everloving _fuck_!!!” Silver swiped blindly at the offensive creature, arm randomly connecting with it, sending it head over tail. The bird regained its equilibrium then moved to perch on the edge of Flint's desk, feathers fluffed in anger. “Where the fuck did you come from and what have you done with my captain?”

“Raise the t’gallants!” the bird ordered.

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me!”

Silver leaned over, staring the parrot into one maniacally roving eye. “No. It can’t be. I’ve gone mad. Completely mad!”

“Gone mad! Long John’s gone mad!” the parrot pronounced, sounding infuriatingly gleeful.

"Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me that you gave up fucking my ass to _turn into a bloody parrot?!_ " Caught between incredulous disbelief and boiling anger, the anger won out. The way Silver saw it, he had two choices - squash the bloody beast with a book, or make him regret his little tantrum. The second had less permanent consequences.

Silver flopped back onto the cot, pulling open the laces on his breeches and kicking them off. "So you want to be a parrot, do you? Too bad a parrot can't enjoy this!" It felt rather triumphant to curl his hand around his cock, glaring into the parrot's eyes as he started to fist himself. "See? You could have had all this to yourself. But no, you had to go and sprout bloody feathers! Well fuck you, I'll get myself off!"

“Stand by to go about!” the parrot shouted.

“This is by the far the most assholish thing you’ve ever done!” Silver grunted out, his hand moving with faster and surer strokes over his cock. “Not to mention, we’ve been… whatever we are… for how long? And you never once mentioned you could turn into a bloody parrot!” Silver bit his lip and curled his fist on the upstroke. “Fuck! You know, the sense of betrayal I feel…”

“Anchors aweigh!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Silver exclaimed, spilling his seed all over his fist, then wiping it angrily on Flint’s sheets. 

The parrot hopped carelessly around the desk, snidely pecking at the remnants of bread that still sat there since the afternoon repast.

“Fuck you, I’m keeping the cabin,” Silver declared, his eyelids heavy with sleep. He would think of a way to explain to the crew tomorrow, when he’d gotten enough rest (from whatever this was). Unless, of course, Flint decided to become corporeal again. In which case, Silver was going to kill him.

***


	2. Shits of Disapproval

Whether or not Flint was still a parrot when Silver awoke wasn't immediately obvious. The door was still barred from the inside. One of the storm windows was open, though that didn't mean anything. For all he knew Flint could have turned into a bloody dolphin and jumped overboard.

Well, nothing to be done about it. The ship still needed running. And if Flint was too juvenile to do so, then Silver would just have to do as he'd promised and run the damn thing himself.

He had a brief moment of concern about Flint being out there, somewhere. But no. Even with what may prove to be a remarkably small bird brain, he was certain that Flint could still take care of himself. Anyway, Silver couldn't really be arsed to look for him.

Not surprisingly, the first man to question him about the captain’s mysterious disappearance had been Billy Bones.

“Where’s the captain?”

“The captain is on an important reconnaissance mission,” Silver spun.

“Yeah, how’d he leave? Longboat’s still here.”

“For all I know, he turned into a fish and swam there.”

“Where?”

“Wherever he needed to be!”

“A reconnaissance mission?”

Silver shrugged. In his experience, sometimes saying nothing at all was much more convincing than saying something utterly half-baked. And his thoughts on this whole parrot fiasco were definitely in need of further time in the oven.

“You know, if you killed him, you could just tell me?” Billy said, towering over Silver in that effortless way. “I mean, it’s not like the man was like a father to me or anything. Not even like an uncle.”

“I know you are not the biggest fan of Captain Flint, but I assure you…”

“Scallywag cunts!” A ball of red feathers plummeted like a meteor out of the sky and unleashed a volley of birdshit all over Billy’s head and shoulders. “Pieces of eight!” the bird added and settled down on Silver’s shoulder, giving his ear an almost loving nibble.

“What the bloody fuck is that?” Billy pointed to the offending monster, helplessly wiping at the shits of disapproval all over himself.

Silver bit his lips to suppress an unfortunate emission of laughter. “Oh this? Don’t you recognize him? Why, it’s Captain Flint!”

“Haha, good one, Silver. What the fuck is the bird doing on the ship?”

“It-- ah… was part of yesterday’s haul. I took a shine to it.”

Captain Flint took this opportunity to present his ass to Billy, lift his tail, and do something that was surely an obscene gesture in the avian world.

“Did that bird just flash me?”

Silver was seriously contemplating ripping off the stupid bastard’s red feathered head.

“You know, come to think of it,” Silver said, grabbing the parrot off his shoulder and flipping him belly up into the palm of his own hand, “He doesn’t appear to have a dick, does he? Must be a girl parrot. Yeah. You hear that? Captain Flint is a _girl_ parrot!”

“Parrots don’t have dicks,” the disgruntled voice of Mr. DeGroot sounded behind Silver.

“Oh, look who suddenly knows so much about parrots! Ow!” Silver opened up his hand from being rudely pecked and Flint took to the air again, flapping his wings wildly, until he finally settled on top of Silver’s head.

“Son of a cuntless whore!” Flint hollered.

“I tell you one thing,” Billy went on, still covered in bird shit. “The real Captain Flint would never talk like that.” 

"You'd be surprised at how little _panache_ the real Captain Flint actually has," Silver grumbled, swiping blindly at his head until the bird took flight.

“Well, at least the real Flint would never take a shit on me,” Billy shrugged. “I don’t think..?”

Silver, in the meantime, had given up trying to get the bird to go anywhere but his head or shoulder. He knew that his dignity was under constant threat, having seen what happened to Billy, but he hadn’t figured out his tactic quite yet. He should probably do something commanding, like give an order, or inspect the loot, or stomp his metal foot extra hard just to remind everyone what a fierce pirate he was.

“Your parrot is masturbating,” Mr. DeGroot said calmly.

“I beg your… _what_?” Silver looked askance at his own shoulder, where Flint was grinding low against his arm bone, bobbing up and down, and making a very strange, guttural noise. “That’s a bad girl, Captain Flint! Have some decorum!” He tried to shake the damn horny thing off, but the parrot had his talons firmly sunk into the sleeve of Silver’s jacket. “Is this your idea of revenge?” he hissed, hoping no one else could hear them.

Flint-the-parrot merely gave a rather pleased sounding trill in response, continuing to hump.

"You're definitely going to regret this, you bird-brained wanker," Silver hissed. Then he straightened, dusting his coat off with as much dignity as one can when one's shoulder was being used as a Man Trap. "Right. Dooley, let's put our haul in order. Billy, get that shit off your head. Mr. DeGroot, see us to Nassau. The crew of the _Walrus_ can look after her themselves!"

***

Back in Nassau, Silver indulged in a moment of complacency. Most of the crew had been more bewildered by the appearance of a bird onboard than they seemed concerned by the sudden disappearance of the captain. No one had questioned him on the way into port, and once back, he was pleased to see that Max had run Nassau with the same skill that she had previously run the brothel.

When he had returned to Flint’s cabin - _his_ cabin, he reminded himself - he found the parrot hopping on the bed, alternating between his feet, head bobbing up and down as if he was dancing to a tune only birds could hear.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having _such_ a splendid time on your little hiatus!” Silver snarled at the bird. The parrot inclined his head and appeared to study Silver with a penetrating gaze, making him shift uncomfortably in his chair. Having an uncomfortable silence with Flint was one thing, but having a staring contest with a bloody parrot just took it to a whole new level. Silver cleared his throat, “Ahem… I’m also happy to see at least you have not shat all over your own furniture.”

“Captain Flint is a girl!” the parrot pronounced and pecked at the table very close to Silver’s fingers.

“Didn’t like that one, did you? Well, you were the one who insisted on being so puerile about the whole thing!”

“ _YOU SHIT_!!!” the parrot hollered, in a voice that was neither avian nor human. An unseen force knocked Silver backwards, causing him to fall with a loud thud out of the chair, while an explosion of feathers cleared over the desk and the smoke settled to reveal a very human Flint, sitting bare-assed on his own desk.

“Jesus _Fuck_!” Silver exclaimed. “You know, until this moment, I was actually not sure that you were really you! I mean, that you were the bird you! I mean… you know what I mean!” If he was to be entirely honest with himself, a sort of relief flooded Silver’s muscles even as he scrambled up off the floorboards. Not that he would admit that aloud, mind you.

“Puerile?!” Flint squinted, his thighs still spread akimbo, so that Silver could clearly make out his balls resting over the navigational charts. 

“Yes, you philistine,” Silver sighed, catching his breath. “It means childish!”

“I know what it means, you little shit!”

“Look, you better start explaining yourself!” Silver collapsed onto the cot and vaguely pointed in the direction of Flint’s genitals. “Now that you’ve got your boy parts back.”

“I’m a shapeshifter,” Flint stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, look, I kind of _gathered_ that, see?” Silver rubbed his temples with his knuckles. “The question is more of a… _why_ are you a shapeshifter? Or even _how_ are you a shapeshifter?”

“You remember how the men always used to say that Mrs. Barlow was a witch?”

“And?”

“Well?”

“What?” Silver leaned in. “You’re not telling me that Miranda Barlow, your friend Lady Hamilton, was an actual witch?”

“Not the Satan-worshiping kind. Miranda’s powers came from the light. She used to invoke the Mother Goddess.”

“All right,” Silver shook his head, entirely unconvinced. “Say that was true, say Mrs. Barlow was a witch. Why the fuck would she turn you into a parrot?”

“Think what you may of our relationship, but Miranda loved me and cared for me very much,” Flint continued with a note of melancholy, that Silver found oddly touching, especially considering the captain’s exposed state. “She wanted to make sure that, unlike Thomas, I could always get out of any scrape that I might get myself into. So she asked the Mother Goddess to grant me ability to turn into any creature of land, air, or sea.”

“That’s actually a really sweet story. I can’t believe you never told me,” Silver pouted, then licked his lips absentmindedly until he remembered to guide his eyes away from Flint’s crotch. “But why a bloody _parrot_?”

“Parrots are extremely annoying!” Flint explained with a shrug. “And I wanted you to learn your lesson! If I had turned into a canary, or a gerbil…”

“Yeah, all right, stop talking!” Silver rose from the cot, fuming again. “You think you were a great big pedagogue, do you? Teaching me a lesson? Well, what about you, Captain? What lesson did _you_ learn? That your crew doesn’t give a shit whether or not you exist? That there’s no one in Nassau who even cares whether you’re out to sea as long as the crew are here to man her defenses?”

“Keep talking like that, Mr. Quartermaster, and I guarantee you’re _never_ going to get laid!” Flint jumped off the table, his pendulous member swaying before Silver’s exasperated face.

“Oh yeah? How?”

“That's right! Because I’m gonna shit on anyone who comes within a foot of your dick and from a great height!”

“Don’t you dare! Flint!” In a moment, Silver was grasping at air again as a loud screech resounded throughout the cabin and a flash of red shot out the window, leaving a volley of birdshit on the windowsill.

***


	3. From a Great Height

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: some canon-consistent battle gore

Flint couldn't deny that there were many things about being a parrot that were just... simpler. Dealing with Silver, certainly. Difficult to argue when your vocabulary was limited. Dealing with the crew, the ship... well he really didn't have to do that at all. And despite Miranda's warnings not to spend too much time in any one shape, Flint couldn't help but feel like he was settling into his feathers in a most tranquil way.

There were many things about being a parrot that were simpler... but perching on the hull of his ship listening to two of his crew making very questionably carnal sounds was unfortunately _not_ one of them.

At first he hadn't quite been certain that he was hearing what he was hearing. Then he considered moving. But the particular alcove where he'd sequestered himself was perfect for his needs - large enough to perch comfortably, protecting him from the breeze that was pushing the _Walrus_ along at a generous clip, and most importantly remote enough to hide him from any possible discovery by his pig-headed paramour.

Surely it would be over soon. Flint tucked his head under a wing, willing himself to just deal with it. The fucking continued. He wasn't a connoisseur of sex noises, but the men on the other side of the gun port were at it long enough that their identities had long ceased being a mystery: Billy Bones and Ben Gunn were boning. Gunn-Boning.

_Pieces of eight! I mean… Gross._

Being a bird did have its setbacks as well. Sometimes, he caught himself thinking like a bird. He wished Silver hadn’t been such a dick about hiding the breadcrumbs, for one thing. He wasn’t a bloody seagull (although he supposed he could become one in a pinch). Seagulls could shit all over everything too.

“Do you think he killed ‘im?”

Flint took his beak out of his feathers and perked up. What kind of post-coital banter was this?

“Who?”

“Old man Flint?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him,” Billy’s reply made Flint’s feathers bristle. “Either way, doesn’t look like he’s coming back, does it?”

“From the dead?” Gunn snickered and yawned in a very loud and almost salacious way. “Nah.”

“He’s done it before,” Billy muttered, his voice muffled by something doubtlessly unseemly.

“So have you, so I hear.”

What followed was a good five minutes of disgusting giggles. Flint took that opportunity to take a preemptive shit down the side of the hull, feeling rather satisfied at the long white streak against the dark wood of _his_ ship.

“You think the men will vote Silver captain?” came Gunn’s hushed voice from below.

“The men already think of him as King and God, I don’t even think it’ll come to a vote.” Flint was torn between feelings of jealousy and puffing his chest out in pride because that was his master they were speaking about. Er… Quartermaster! Stupid bird-brain!

“Guess that’ll leave room for a new quartermaster then?” Gunn snickered.

“What are you implying, my little love muffin?”

 _Love muffin?_ Flint thanked the Gods that he currently had two stomachs, otherwise, he was pretty sure he’d be vomiting all over the main deck.

“I’m implying, my little cheese soufflé, that one of us should be buttering him up.”

“Who?”

“Silver! Christ, I thought you were smart _and_ hot!"

"I know _Silver_. I meant which one of us you intend to be doing the buttering? Not sure I could, with our complicated history. You, though... Flint's almost as hot as you are. And you'd be fresh meat to him."

 _Almost?_ Flint's talons dug into the wood angrily. The next time he saw that lumbering oaf Billy, oh... there was going to be some target practice, alright.

“Pieces of eight!” Flint couldn’t control the ejaculation. The lovebirds startled and he himself had to take to desperate flight.

***  
Flint wasn’t sure exactly where he was headed, so when he spotted Silver’s curly head on the quarterdeck, he plummeted straight towards it and perched on his shoulder like it was his rightful place. In fact, he dared anyone to prove him wrong, and glared askance at any crewman who might question his lofty position.

“Still a parrot, I see,” Silver muttered under his breath.

“Shiver my timbers!” Flint replied.

“That doesn’t even make any sense, you realize.” Silver shook his head, his curls fanning out in the wind and Flint hopped under the canopy, bumping against Silver’s cheek with his crest feathers. “What? Miss me?” Even as a bird, Flint could still tell by the timbre of his lover’s voice when he was smiling, and he gave his earlobe a soft love-nibble. “You must be hungry,” Silver’s voice reverberated through his body and into Flint’s tiny bird frame. “Here.” A hand appeared and in it some sunflower seeds. Flint hopped on over and began to peck happily at his treats, all thoughts of Ben Gunn and Billy Bones temporarily forgotten.

Being a parrot wasn’t so bad, just as he had been contemplating before. He emitted a satisfied chirp and Silver’s index finger alighted to stroke over the bright red feathers of his head. Flint preened.

“Captain?” Dooley approached.

“Huh?” Silver frowned.

“Pieces of eight???” Flint squawked.

“Well, y’er actin’ Captain, ain’t ye?”

“To be honest,” Silver responded, putting Flint back on his shoulder, “I thought you were addressing Captain Flint here. Aren’t you still in charge, Captain Flint?”

“Cunts!” Flint replied, thinking this to be sufficient for his purposes. Although, he couldn’t quite fathom why as a bird he had such a potty mouth. Did he also talk this way as a human? It was possible he simply didn’t have perspective on the situation.

“Well I ain’t talkin’ to yer parrot,” Dooley shrugged. “A ship’s been sighted, flyin’ English colors. A merchant vessel. What are yer orders, Captain?”

Behind the anxious face of Dooley, Billy’s towering form appeared, looking dazed and disheveled.

“Well, what do you want to do, _Captain_?” Billy folded his arms with a complacent look and Flint took mental aim at his smug face, just as Silver, that treacherous dog, grabbed him off his shoulder around the wings and held the parrot close to his own chest so he couldn’t fly.

“Prepare to attack!” Silver commanded, then hissed down at Flint, “Whatever you were thinking of doing, now is not the time.”

 _Ungrateful_ , Flint thought, nipping sharply at Silver's closest finger. Silver yelped, releasing him, and as Flint took wing he heard his lover yell after him. "Fuck!"

Winging his way skyward, Flint settled on the yard of the foresail, gripping the wooden beam tightly with his talons. He intended to wait until an unsuspecting target walked underneath him, but once he'd taken a view of the ship and its quickly nearing prey he found himself distracted, fascinated by the bustle of men below him.

There was an art to taking a prize. A careful balancing game - when to pursue, how fast. When to raise the black to strike the optimum amount of fear into the hearts of honest men. It was an art he'd schooled Silver in, one they'd practiced together on the high seas dozens of times.

It was an art that Silver seemed dead set on ignoring at the moment. Flint stared at the British colours flapping innocently from the pole. _Raise the black, you idiot! You're almost upon them!_

Should he interfere? Flint found himself caught in an annoying pull between concern and angry disregard. Then it was too late - the _Walrus_ was pulling alongside the English merchant, and Silver was yelling to the gunners to fire a warning shot across her bow as Billy ran up the flag at the back.

At least the muscled scallywag was good for something. Flint revised his decisions for later pooping. But there'd been a reason he'd targeted Billy, hadn't there? Why couldn’t he remember? Ah well. Surely he'd remember later, if it had been important.

For now his focus was to the battle at hand. The merchant ship ran up a white flag, slowing obediently as any ship ought to when faced with the banner of the fearsome Captain Flint. Grappling hooks sailed through the air, finding purchase on the rail of the ship beside them.

  
The crew of the _Walrus_ heaved; with a great groan and a creaking of timber, the two ships crashed together. But as his men leapt up to jump over the side, the hosts of the merchant ship rose up from the other side, brandishing everything from pistols and cutlasses to meat cleavers, screaming defiance at the pirates who would master them.

 _Fucking amateur_ , Flint thought, taking to wing and searching for Silver's head of curls amidst the clash of steel and gunpowder smoke. Would serve him right to get killed for this. And if he didn't, Flint had half a mind to throttle Silver himself. Still, when he spotted a British seaman raising his pistol towards Silver's pretty little head, Flint's reaction was immediate. Instinctive.

Screaming, he dive-bombed the deck, talons raking across the man's hat and knocking it to the deck. It only took an instant to turn and lunge at the man again, aiming for his face, swiping with beak and claws. He barely missed a swing of the man's pistol, but being unseated by the Brit's flailing only made him angrier again. This time when he flew at the assailant his beak found purchase in something wet and squishy. He wrenched his head, tearing it away.

"MY EYE!"

Was that what it was? Fluttering off, Flint released the offending piece of flesh, which bounced off the head of another British crewman. Distracted and visibly disgusted, the man was quickly disarmed.

Flint looked around for Silver again, ready to take on anyone who dared target him. But clearly his efforts had turned the tide; across the decks of both ships the British crewmen still standing were throwing down their weapons.

The day was won. Satisfied, Flint landed on the body of an unfortunate merchant crewman and began to clean his beak on the man's shoulder.

***


	4. In which Flint can’t remember what he forgot

Silver wasn’t surprised to find Flint back in the cabin, once he returned, having made sure the crew and the ill-begotten gains were safely stowed. He was, however, surprised to find that Flint had located a pair of trousers since he had transformed back into his normal, infuriating, human self. Surprised, and, to be entirely honest, rather disappointed.

“You plucked out a man’s eye?” Silver leaned against the door. “You know, that’s rather melodramatic, for a parrot. You could have at least turned yourself into a condor or a vulture if you were going to get all into the spirit of things!”

“You’re welcome,” Flint retorted, much to Silver’s annoyance.

“I didn’t need your help!” he snapped. “I’m not a damn child. I was doing well enough without a bloody parrot swooping down to my aid!”

“I’m sure stories of you having a fierce battle parrot won’t do your legend any disservice,” Flint shrugged and took a step forward. “Besides, I know you could’ve handled it.”

“Then _why_ did you butt in?”

“Because,” Flint growled, stepping into Silver’s space, his breath a hot caress against Silver’s face, “You’re _mine_ , and I’m not letting anyone else lay a hand on you. In either lust _or_ violence.”

“You stupid asshole,” Silver breathed out, completely overcome by the need to be touching his aggravating lover. “I really _hate_ how much I love you!” he proclaimed, and pulled Flint towards him until their mouths clashed in a ravenous kiss.

Flint moaned into Silver’s mouth, his body scorching against Silver’s skin, while his hands attempted to divest Silver of his clothes. “You shit,” Flint muttered, nibbling on Silver’s earlobe, kissing a trail of wet, scalding kisses down the long line of his neck. They stumbled to the cot, Silver’s coat, shirt, trousers, and prosthesis littering the way like breadcrumbs behind Hansel and Gretel.

“Why’d you put on _these_?” Silver pulled angrily at the laces of the leathers currently obscuring Flint’s cock from his greedy paws. He punctuated his words by biting into Flint’s chin, his lips getting scraped by that fiery beard, and then lower, into the tendon where Flint’s magnificent, thick neck rooted like a tree trunk into his wide shoulders. “You’re gonna finish what you started this time, right? No bird shenanigans?”

“Shut up and get on my cock,” Flint exhaled, even as Silver knocked all wind out of him, tumbling them both onto the narrow cot.

"I'm gonna ride the shit outta you," Silver growled, thighs clamping down on either side of his hips. He jammed his hips against Flint's, swollen cock pressing angrily into his stomach as Silver fumbled for the bottle of oil that inevitably always ended up shoved down the side of the mattress. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? My blue balls have blue balls."

“Oh please,” Flint huffed out, thumbs appreciatively stroking down and digging into Silver’s jutting hipbones, “it’s been like… days. I went without a proper dicking for a decade, I’ll have you know, you cock-hungry puppy.”

"Something I intend to never have repeated," Silver replied. His brows furrowed in concentration, toes digging into the mattress as he braced one hand on Flint's chest, reaching back with the other to guide him home. It had been far too long, he decided, despite what Flint tried to claim, and with a few hard bucks he was grinding his ass against Flint's hips. All those horseback riding lessons had not been for naught. Hell if he couldn't ride a man better than anyone with two good legs, he thought, gasping out his pleasure at the exquisite slide of Flint's throbbing, thick cock inside him. He'd take his pleasure as he liked, and then decide if he'd forgiven Flint enough to let him come inside him.

Flint, it seemed, had other ideas about who was in charge. He shifted under Silver, fingers biting angrily to hold his hips in place as he bucked up into him. "I should plow your cheeky little arse until you're begging for mercy," he snarled, punctuating his words with a harder thrust.

"Me?" Silver clenched down around his cock in retaliation, yelping as another hard thrust left him seeing stars. No matter - his goal was to get fucked, and clearly Flint was happy to help him reach his aims. He leaned down to kiss the cocky smirk from Flint's face, nipping at his lips between gasps for breath as Flint set a punishing pace.

"That's better," Flint growled. His hands moved from Silver's hips to clench at his ass cheeks, pulling him down into his thrusts. "Mine."

 _Then why have you spent days as a parrot?_ the thought was a sudden burst of agony in Silver's mind. He growled in response, fighting Flint's hold, grinding his ass down harder. "You ass," he hissed, even as the thrust of Flint's cock pushed him to his limit, even as pleasure claimed him, even as he spilled hot and thick on Flint's stomach, his own hand pulling the last vestiges out of his pulsating cock.

Flint looked up at him with lust-hazed eyes and a complacent smile tucked in the corner of his lush and obscenely kissable mouth. “C’mere, you,” and Silver came tumbling down, splattering chest to chest into the mess he himself had left all over Flint’s abdomen, and his lover’s arms wrapped around his back. “God,” Flint sighed contently, his breath ruffling Silver’s curls, “I don’t even remember why I was so angry at you anymore.”

Silver was stuck, quite literally, his body too sated and heavy to put up any resistance. Inside him, he could still feel Flint’s own cock pulsating with the last throes of his orgasm. Huh, Silver guessed he forgave Flint after all.

“Because you’re an old grump,” Silver muttered into his lover’s chest and punctuated his words with a kiss to Flint’s collarbone.

“And you’re a young dolt,” Flint retorted, pressing another kiss to Silver’s hairline.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Silver whispered, feeling warm and sleepy in Flint’s embrace. It made him feel generous, emotionally. “The truth is,” he continued, fingers lazily tracing over the bumps of Flint’s ribs, “I didn’t much fancy doing this without you. I don’t want any of this - conquest, glory - if I am not sharing it with you. Please, don’t be a parrot again.”

Flint chuckled. “I’m not exactly sure how I can explain being back right now, my love. We’re in the middle of the ocean.”

“We were in the middle of the ocean when you disappeared,” Silver pointed out.

“Everyone assumed that you’d killed me and thrown me overboard - that’s easy to explain!” Something was scratching at the back of Flint’s mind again. Something important, something he wanted to tell Silver about. Cursed limitations of having had a bird brain!

“What are you saying?” Silver shifted to press more comfortably into Flint’s side. “You have to be a parrot until we’re back in Nassau? Do you really plan to give up a life of piracy for a life of parrotcy?”

“I don’t see another way out of it for the time being,” Flint shrugged.

“But only during the day, all right?” Silver gave him what he hoped was his most pathetic, imploring look. “At night, you’re you."

Blessedly Flint laughed, tracing fingers along Silver's jaw and up into his hair. "You're just saying that so you can have your wicked way with me."

"I am." Silver wrapped his good leg over him possessively. "And this. I don't sleep as well without you, you know."

Flint smiled again, burying his face in Silver's dark curls and pressing a kiss into his hair. "Aye aye, Captain." He felt amicable and sleepy, in the aftermath of sex. Whatever it was that he had intended to tell Silver, surely he'd remember in the morning.


	5. A Love Stronger Than Cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'd just like to remind you that this is an actual conversation that took place in _Treasure Island_ between Ben Gunn and Jim Hawkins.
> 
>  
> 
> _"But, mate, my heart is sore for Christian diet. You mightn't happen to have a piece of cheese about you, now? No? Well, many's the long night I've dreamed of cheese--toasted, mostly--and woke up again, and here I were."_  
>  _"If ever I can get aboard again," said I, "you shall have cheese by the stone."_

***

Billy Bones has seen a world of shit in his day. He’d survived impressment, he’d survived drowning, being tortured by redcoats, the god damn doldrums, Flint’s revolution. He was, quite frankly, losing track of all the shit he’s seen in his day. Which was why he was most perplexed that he could not quite wrap his mind around what it was that he was currently witnessing.

Had Silver finally utterly lost it?

The fucking bird - nay, the fucking _monster_ risen from the very tar-pits of Hell, with its claws and its beak and its world of _endless shit_ \- sat on Long John Silver’s shoulder and lovingly pecked at his earlobe, with an occasional headbutt of adoration that was followed by periods of preening and more nibbling. All this, in itself, would have been odd enough, had Silver not been cooing right _back_ at the goddamn avian nightmare, and stroking its little red crest, and feeding it sunflower seeds with a look of such love and devotion that Billy had to force himself to look away.

“Captain Flint is such a pretty bird! Aren’t you, Captain Flint?” Silver cooed and stroked the bird’s feathers with gentle fingers.

“Stand by to go about!” the bird replied and rubbed its crest right into Silver’s beaming face.

“What the fucking fuck!” Billy muttered.

“That thing _killed_ for him,” Ben whispered next to him, eyeing both Silver and the bird with growing suspicion. “He’s a trained attack parrot!”

“There’s no such thing known in nature!” DeGroot pronounced with the unphased look of a connoisseur. "Parrots are florivores, of course, and they don't attack mammals."

“You saw what that thing did the other day!” Ben pressed.

“Aye, but…”

"It also has frightening accuracy in where it shits," Billy added, glowering in Silver's direction.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Silver was saying to the fucking parrot. "Just wait until we're back in Nassau. Then you can be captain."

"What. The actual. Fuck." Billy threw up his hands, rounding to DeGroot. "Listen to him! Is he really fit to run a crew?"

DeGroot shook his head and shrugged his shoulders with a world-weary sigh. “Maybe not. But then again, is he any more or less insane than Captain Flint? There were times I thought Flint had lost it too.”

“Are you talking about the man or the fucking bird?” Billy asked in growing consternation.

“I’m starting to reconsider our original plan,” Ben whispered into Billy’s ear. “I don’t think I’m his type, at all!”

"Because you don't have feathers?" Billy hissed back.

“Stand by to come about!” the bird named after Flint ordered.

“I know, darling,” Silver purred back. “I can’t wait till nightfall either. Seeds?”

“Or…” Ben continued as Billy’s eyes were getting so wide that he swore they were on the verge of falling from his sockets. “Or, perhaps he’s only lost it because he misses the real Flint? Maybe he really does need to get laid? A good dicking might straighten him right out!”

“Or, it’s the guilt from having slit his lover’s throat and tossed him overboard in the dead of night,” DeGroot offered, looking entirely unimpressed. “That would haunt a man. Make him talk to birds, even.”

“Look, we don’t know he did that…” Billy attempted, weakly.

“You said yourself he probably offed Flint!” Ben whispered. “Look, I’m gonna do it.”

“Do what?”

“Make a pass at him. See if I can get in his pants.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just hold a vote to select a new captain and quartermaster?” DeGroot asked.

“Pragmatism, DeGroot? That’s what you’re offering here? The man is clearly insane! Who knows what he'd do? He might sic his attack parrot on us!”

"And yet your solution is to try and place your delicate bits near him while naked?"  
DeGroot shook his head, a bemused smile on his lips. "Well, gentlemen, I'll leave you to it."

“Are you sure about this, my Bennikins?” Billy pulled his lover off to the side. “I know I couldn’t resist your powers of seduction myself, but Silver’s always been a bit… off. And if he really murdered Flint, well…”

“Billy, you know I love you,” Ben spoke, cupping Billy’s face with both his hands. “I love you more than I love cheese. And you know I love cheese a whole lot.”

“I know, Ben.”

“Well, just remember that, while I go and try to rub my privates against those of the crazy man with the bird.”

Once Ben had started his way down the stairs to where Silver stood at the rail of the main deck, his confidence began to falter. How was he supposed to approach a fully armed lunatic who talked to birds, after all? Billy had won his heart just by parading around the ship half-dressed, huge muscles gleaming in the sunlight. Ben certainly couldn't compete with that. What had it been about Flint that had drawn Silver to him?

The bird had, incidentally, placed itself back on Silver’s shoulder and was using its beak to groom the long curls that were getting tossed by the wind. Well, if that’s what Silver was into, Ben supposed he could play hairdresser.

"How is it that you keep your hair so beautiful with all this wind?" Ben ran a hand through his own hair, pushing it back from his face, fingers catching in a knot. "Mine tangles something fierce." He stepped up to the rail on the other side of the bird, leaning on it and giving Silver his most winning smile.

Silver's eyebrows formed a slight furrow. "Just care, I suppose," he said after a moment, slowly, as if he wasn't quite sure what Ben was getting at. "And a touch of coconut oil, when I can get my hands on some."

"Really." Ben lifted a hand towards Silver's hair, ignoring the looks from the bird as it leaned out from Silver's shoulder to glare at him. Wait, could birds really glare? Was he seeing things now, too? "May I?"

"I... suppose?"

Ben brought his fingertips to Silver's temple, tracing up into his hair and gently sliding through. But before he could continue his gentle wooing the damn bird launched itself from Silver's shoulder with a screech.

“RELEASE THE KRAKEN!” it hollered, and Ben found himself the target of a volley of putrid filth, raining down upon him. He jerked back, trying to shield his eyes from the airborne onslaught.

"You little shit!"

Silver, unfortunately, only laughed, holding up an arm for the hellbeast to land on. "Are you jealous, my dear? Captain Flint is a jealous girl, isn't she?"

Clearly Silver was even crazier than they'd thought. "I'll go find a bath," Ben muttered, stumbling backwards.

"Walk the plank!" the bird called out with an eerie amount of sense, and with growing terror, Ben observed as Silver placed a kiss on its little, evil, red head.

Ben wiped a dollop of bird shit from his forehead. Maybe he should have listened to DeGroot after all. That man seemed to know an awful lot about wildlife.


	6. Ye Scurvy Dogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another friendly reminder that this is an actual quote from _Treasure Island_ :
> 
> “Was it cheese you said he had a fancy for?”  
> “Yes, sir, cheese,” I answered.  
> “Well, Jim,” says he, “just see the good that comes of being dainty in your food. You’ve seen my snuff-box, haven’t you? And you never saw me take snuff, the reason being that in my snuff-box I carry a piece of Parmesan cheese—a cheese made in Italy, very nutritious. Well, that’s for Ben Gunn!”“

Back inside the captain’s cabin, come nightfall, Silver found himself laughing into the side of Flint’s warm and delightfully human neck. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that? Release the kraken???”

“Mhm,” Flint replied only with a complacent grunt and ran his hands up Silver’s back, gently cupping the back of his skull to guide his face upwards into a kiss. “He saw an opportunity and he took it,” Flint muttered, nibbling on Silver’s lower lip. “So did I.”

“What opportunity?” Silver pulled back with a confused frown.

“I remember now what I was going to tell you!” Flint snapped his fingers. “Those Gunn-Boners! They think you killed me and they see a power vacuum.”

“Wait… who?”

“Billy Bones and Ben Gunn. They’re doing it.”

“Doing what?” 

“This,” Flint emphasized by seizing his lover’s exposed ass.

“How did I not know this?” Silver groused with consternation. There had been a day that he would’ve been the first to see and hear all the gossip. He needed better spies.

“Possibly because you’d been distracted,” Flint chucked, letting his lips trail up and down Silver’s neck. “Anyways, that Gunn kid thought he’d get to be the new quartermaster by getting into your bed. I wasn’t about to let him, was I?”

“It would take more than complimenting my hair to get me in the sack,” Silver sighed. “That was a pathetic display, even for a pirate. I don’t think you really had that much to worry about.”

“You should maroon him.”

Silver laughed and rolled onto his back. “You can’t be serious?”

“It would teach them all to reach above their station,” Flint huffed and draped himself over Silver in his turn. “Either way, I want him off my crew. I don’t trust him.”

“What about Billy?”

“He’ll get over it.”

“What am I supposed to tell him? I’m doing it on Captain Flint’s orders?”

“Well,” Flint shrugged. “If you like.”

“They already think I killed you! How would that go over? I’ll be managing a mutiny and you’ll still be… a parrot!”

“If anyone could bullshit their way out of this, that would be you, my love,” Flint grinned and placed a chaste kiss on the tip of Silver’s nose.

Silver narrowed his eyes and glared at Flint. “Why do I get the distinct feeling that you’re enjoying yourself more than you have in a very long time?”

Flint laughed. “It’s a different view from up there.” He looked upwards, to an invisible point in the night sky, high above the sails of their ship. “Gives you perspective.”

“What kind of perspective? That men are nothing but moving targets for you to shit on?”

“At the end of the day, are we not all birds, craving the freedom of the endless sky? And is this entire planet not just one exhaustive latrine?”

“That’s rather grim,” Silver yawned, nuzzing closer to Flint again and allowing his eyes to close. “Tell me I’m more to you than just a turd floating in a latrine.”

Flint smiled into the canopy of thick curls that tickled his nose. “You are the sky, John Silver.”

***

"I have a plan," Silver said towards the parrot that sat perched on the edge of the desk, watching him dress with his head cocked to one side in disapproval. "I'm not marooning him. But I might be able to go one better."

Changing course for Tortuga was a sensible choice - they'd get good coin for their cargo, give the men an afternoon in the brothels, and with any luck be able to take another prize on their way back to Nassau. DeGroot gave an approving nod at Silver's order, going to spread word among the crew.

There was only one more man that he needed to speak to personally. Silver waited until the docks of Tortuga were in sight, with Billy safely occupied on the rigging high above, when he laid a hand on Ben's shoulder. "Mr. Gunn. Might I have a word with you in my cabin?"

The strange mix of hope and trepidation on Ben Gunn's face as he made his way into the cabin almost gave Silver a twinge of regret. But it wasn't as if they were leaving Gunn on an uninhabited island. Just leaving him behind, in relative civilization, until the next time they happened back to Tortuga. That would send a message to Billy about vacuums of power. Just long enough to ensure that the two of them wouldn't entertain any similar ideas in the future. And if Gunn got tired of waiting and joined another crew in the meantime, well... all’s well that ends well.

"Say, Mr. Gunn,” Silver began with some uncertainty, “I have an errand for you to run. An errand that I feel you are uniquely qualified to fulfill.”

Ben gave the cabin a suspicious once over, looking for some place to hide, should the hell-beast deem his face suitable for target practice again.

“An errand?” Ben perked up. “I’m flattered, Captain. What kind of an errand?”

“There’s been a shipment of,” Silver dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “ _Parmesan_.”

“Do you mean…?”

“Yes, my friend. Wheels upon wheels of it. Mmmm, all hard and pungent and waiting to be devoured.” Was he laying it on too thick, Silver wondered? He glanced over towards Flint, who appeared busy cleaning the feathers of his own ass with his beak, and acted entirely uninterested in the proceedings.

“Holy fuck,” Ben drooled, reaching down to adjust his belt.

“I want that cheese, Gunn! Before we set sail from Tortuga, it must be onboard the _Walrus_.”

"Captain, I will do whatever is necessary to secure it for us! Er... You.”

“There is no one else I can trust with this mission,” Silver slung an arm around Ben. “These other fools cannot tell a fine Parmesan from a moldy Cheddar. We are pirates, after all, not savages!”

"Scurvy dogs!" Flint crowed in agreement.

“Yes, thank you, Captain,” Silver nodded towards the windowsill.

“Tell me where to go and that cheese is as good as ours… yours,” Ben stated with growing ardor and dilated pupils.

"I shall. But this is a very valuable prize, Mr. Gunn. It's imperative that you tell no-one of your mission until the Parmesan is safely stashed away in this cabin, or else I will not be able to repay you with a share of it. Not a soul. Swear to me."

"Upon my bollocks, Captain, as they hang," Ben swore fervently.

And that was how, with an early departure from Tortuga and no actual marooning, that Captain John Silver deftly extricated Ben Gunn from the crew of the _Walrus_.


	7. The Beard of Betrayal

It was, of course, inevitable that Billy Bones would be the first to discover that they were one crewman short. Rather unfortunately, he waited to do so until Silver had his mouth full. 

“Silver! I need to speak to you!” The rap on the door sounded dangerously vindictive.

“Don’t you dare take my cock out of your mouth,” Flint grunted, fingers tangled in the long strands of Silver’s curls.

"It's not like I _want_ to!" Silver hissed as he pulled back, tugging Flint's shirt down over his erect cock. The banging on the door became heavier, more urgent. "But - have you seen that man's _arms_? They’re quite possibly the size of your thighs!"

"Silver, I know you're in there! I can hear you talking to that damn parrot!"

Silver grabbed his trousers off the floor. "Turn back!" he hissed.

"What?"

"Well, he can't very well see you in here now, can he?" Holding his trousers closed, Silver hopped towards the door to the cabin before Billy could break it down. "Hold on a bloody moment!" He made an urgent movement towards Flint, who finally obeyed, perching on the end of the cot with a distinctly annoyed look on his parrot face. Silver unlatched the door.

As soon as the bar was lifted, both doors flew open with such force that it nearly knocked Silver on his ass. 

“Hey, watch it!” Silver steadied himself against the wall. “Some of us are missing an appendage!”

“Pieces of eight!”

Billy shot the bird a look imbued with much suspicion. "And some of us are missing altogether!"

"I'm not quite certain what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean," Billy glowered. "I know you sent him on that ridiculous errand. You filled my Ben's head with dreams of fine Italian cheese, just so that you could leave him behind! And there wasn't even any cheese, was there? You sent him out there all alone for nothing!"

“He swore to me on his bollocks not to tell anyone about his mission!” Silver countered. “But he told _you_ , didn’t he? Thus proving what I suspected all along!”

“Scurvy dog!” Flint chimed in.

“Exactly!” Silver nodded. “Your Ben couldn’t be trusted. It’s not my fault if he failed in his mission and didn’t make our meeting point in time.”

“Scallywag cunt!” Flint added.

“Very good, Captain,” Silver agreed.

Billy, meanwhile, had flushed near scarlet with anger. "You're not going to get away with this," he growled. "I swear that to you. Just wait 'till you see how the crew feels about you leaving an innocent, darling man behind!" Then he was gone as quickly as he'd arrived, the doors to the cabin swaying in his wake.

"I suppose that could have gone better," Flint said, once again human and suddenly very naked.

"Well, nothing to be helped now." Silver barred the door again, eyebrows furrowing as he regarded Flint. "Not that I'm complaining, but... weren't you wearing a shirt before?"

“Hm… maybe?” Flint drew his hand down the ginger curls of his chest.

“Where did… it go?”

Flint shrugged. “I seem to lose clothes in the transition.”

“Oh my god!” Silver’s eyes bulged with a sudden dawning of realization. “Do you think Charles Vane was a shapeshifter too?”

“You should probably just go back to sucking my cock,” Flint suggested affably.

"But...." Silver looked back to the barred door, as if expecting it to be broken down by an angry mob at any moment. Though he supposed that if things came to that, then he might as well go out doing something he enjoyed.

***

When no horde of angry, mutineering pirates busted into his cabin mid-blowie, Silver assessed that, regardless of Billy Bones’ intentions, he would at least have a good night's rest. While that sadly proved not to be the case, at least both he and Flint had finished by the time another knock came on his door, this time rather more politely.

"Captain Silver?" DeGroot's muffled voice sounded apologetic. "It seems Billy has called a meeting of all hands. Thinking that yourself and the parrot might wish to be in attendance."

Silver stretched and burrowed his nose into Flint’s armpit. “Mhm, what could possibly be more important than what I’m doing right now?” he groused.

“Suit yourself. We have judged you in absentia before!” DeGroot announced.

Silver raised his head to look at Flint and whisper, "Did that work out in our favor last time?"

"Well... they didn't kill us."

"True." Silver frowned, pondering. As cosy as it was in the cot, he supposed it would be wise to have his say. After all, who knew what rebellious ideas Billy had gotten into his head? Ever since he had formed his unholy alliance with Ben Gunn and grown that beard, something had been off about their First Mate.

Irritated, Silver struggled back into his clothes once again, tying his leg in place and running fingers through his curls to tame them. Flint-in-parrot-form landed on his shoulder, tugging at a curl above his ear affectionately. 

“This is all your fault, you know,” Silver whispered with resignation. The parrot tried to kiss his nose with his beak and Silver’s heart melted a little. How was it possible that Flint was so adorable, even as a bellicose, shitting machine?

Composing himself, Silver sauntered (to the extent his gate permitted) onto the quarterdeck, and attempted to summon his fiercest self.

“What is the meaning of this, Billy?” he gestured to the gathered men.

“Time for you to account to the crew for all your doings of late!” Billy growled, stepping into the middle of a circle that the men had formed around him.

“What exactly are these _doings_ of which you speak?” Silver asked, casually leaning on the railing.

“Plunder your booty!” Flint chirped.

“Not in front of the men, darling,” Silver replied, stroking the bright red crest feathers.

"That! That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Billy waved wildly towards Silver and his parrot. "No sane man would dote this way upon a shitting bird!"

"I hardly think that having a pet makes one unfit to be a captain," DeGroot pointed out, appreciably logical.

"Thank you, Mr. DeGroot."

"I don't mean the parrot herself. I mean your parrot-addled brain!" Billy gave a soft growl of frustration. "You left Ben Gunn behind in Tortuga!"

Silver returned his gaze evenly. "Mr. Gunn accepted a very important mission from me. Surely he will rejoin the crew when we next stop at Tortuga. To great acclaim, I might add."

The murmurs from the gathering sounded encouragingly approving. Billy's frown deepened while the veins on his arms bulged. "Fine, then. So how do you account for Flint’s disappearance, huh?”

“Beg pardon?” Silver smiled coyly. “Why Captain Flint is right here, where he’s always been, right at the helm!” He petted his own shoulder from where the parrot bobbed his head in a deep bow and then made a kissing noise.

"I'm beginning to think he's telling the truth," DeGroot muttered under his breath.

"Do you think we're all as brain-addled as you?" Billy exploded. "Flint disappeared when we were in the middle of the open ocean. You did away with him! You wanted the ship and the command for yourself, so you killed him and threw him overboard! Captain killer!"

Another murmur, this time of uncertainty, echoed across the decks. 

“You can’t be serious!” Silver exclaimed. “Why would I kill Captain Flint? I have ever had nothing but love and respect for the man.”

“Bollocks!” Billy exploded. 

"BULLSHIT!" the parrot squawked in outrage.

"Captain Flint has picked up a lot of naughty words hanging around the likes of you, men," Silver said, shaking his head. "But more importantly - how on earth could I - I, John Silver of only one leg - possibly manage to single-handedly overpower and kill the most fearsome pirate on the seven seas, not to mention, my most beloved captain? Then what? Drag his body and toss it overboard? At my strongest, I could never lift Flint, and believe me, I’ve tried!”

"Raise the t'gallants!" the parrot added helpfully.

"Yes, thank you, darling." Silver stepped out further onto the deck, turning to survey the crew of the _Walrus._ "I had hoped to spare you this, but I see now that I have no choice. Flint was your captain, and you all deserve to know. The truth of the matter is that Captain Flint had lost faith in the life of piracy. The battle against England, which had heretofore sustained him, had grown to sicken him like a cup of fine wine that has been turned to vinegar… nay… to poison! He could no longer find pleasure in slaughter, as he once did, and thusly defeated, he had no choice but to leave the fight in younger and more capable hands: my own." 

Silver turned to make eye contact with the other half of the crew. "Captain Flint has confessed all this to me, his dearest friend and quartermaster, and I have given him leave to go, as a true friend should. Our captain has deserted the account, to live out the remainder of his days in peace. He departed the ship under the cover of night when we were last in Nassau, and at this very moment is on his way to settle quietly in Savannah."

For a moment there was nothing but silence.

"That's fucking bullshit," Billy growled. “What the hell is he gonna do in bloody Savannah?”

Silver shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Eat, sleep, take up fucking gardening? Maybe drink himself to death?”

"You can't possibly believe - "

DeGroot's voice rose above Billy’s. "It seems to me," the Ship's Master said calmly, "that if a man wishes to retire in peace that he should have that right. Captain Flint has had a long, rough time of pirating. He's left us a fine legacy to continue. And, more importantly, the map to his treasure."

"Hear hear!" shouted a voice from the back of the deck.

"To Captain Flint!" shouted another.

On Silver's shoulder, Flint flapped his wings. "Drink up, me hearties!"

“There, there, my sweet,” Silver pronounced with some complacency, and pressed a kiss to the parrot’s bobbing head. 

“Oh for fuck’s sakes!” Billy shouted, in an overabundance of frustration. “Are you all really going to follow this… this _parrot-fancier_?”

The men, distracted by talk of treasure maps, paid little attention to Billy's cry. Silver gave him a wink. "It seems you already know the answer to that, Billy. Now, if you'll excuse me, Captain Flint and I will be in our cabin. Canoodling. I would appreciate it if you did not disturb us again."

The matter settled, Silver barred the cabin doors behind them, happily engaging in victorious celebrations with Flint until the sleep of the well canoodled claimed them both.

He didn't give another thought to Billy. The crew was on his side. Billy would just have to fall in line.

He didn't give another thought to Billy, but Billy, it seemed, had given many thoughts to him. "I told you that you wouldn't get away with this," came a growl in the darkness behind him as Silver was relieving himself over the side of the ship in the middle of the night.

"What are you - " Silver started, only to have the strongest arms on the _Walrus_ seize hold of him and shove him over the rail of the ship and into the turbulent black water below.

***


	8. Treasure Island Can Suck It

As Silver plummeted beneath the waves, he felt an angry rush of betrayal. Goddamn Billy! Perhaps he should have listened to Flint and marooned Ben Gunn after all! At least that would’ve been worth getting killed over. This is what he got for being soft-hearted. This too was somehow Flint’s fault. Making him all gooey.

Speaking of gooey, it was incredibly difficult to stay afloat with the bloody peg leg. Right, that was the point. Billy _expected_ him to drown. Rude! “He… help?” Silver slurped and spat a mouthful of seawater out. He wasn’t addressing anyone in particular, just… fuck it, he wasn’t going to go out like this!

“Pieces of eight!” an ear-piercing screech resounded up above his head.

Silver wanted to shout at the stupid bird, throw accusations at it, but his mouth once again became filled up with water as another wave pulled him inexorably down and under. He was hoping to communicate his dying sentiments to Flint by extending his fingers in the rudest gesture he could conjure as he sank beneath the waters. Then, something heavy hit the water beside him, the turbulence pushing him under once more.

Frantically Silver fumbled with the laces of his peg, which were stiff and swollen in the water. They refused to give. Panicking, Silver pulled harder. Suddenly, something wet and slippery pushed up against his ass, propelling him above the surface.

Silver gulped a deep breath, spluttering and floundering in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. Whatever had pushed him out of the water pressed against his side, chittering. A dolphin? An extraordinarily friendly dolphin?

The slippery mammal disappeared from his side, diving down again, nose pushing firmly against his ass.

Flint. Goddamn Flint.

This time when Flint surfaced and pushed up against him, Silver leaned into him. After a few awkward attempts, he managed to hang on with an arm wrapped over his slippery body just above his dorsal fin, kicking out with his good leg to help Flint propel them through the water.

"Now we've lost the crew _and_ the _Walrus_. I hope you're happy!" he complained.

In response, Flint dunked them under the surface. Coughing, Silver contemplated voicing another complaint. Then, considering his precarious situation and not knowing how to predict Flint's temperament in dolphin form (could dolphins shit?), he begrudgingly decided to keep his mouth shut.

Even with Flint to help, Silver soon felt his muscles begin to ache and tire. Where were they going? Around them all he could see was the black of the sea and the darker black of the moonless sky above. He tried to recall the course they'd taken. Was there any kind of land nearby? And even if there was, could they reach it? Could Flint find it?

Exhausted, he lost his grip on Flint's body, slipping again beneath the waves. Again, Flint pushed up underneath him, lifting him to the surface and life-giving air.

"I don't know if I can keep going," Silver admitted, in between labored breaths. "But you could still go take back the _Walrus_ and prove that asshole wrong...."

Chittering, Flint gave him a firm headbutt, then disappeared beneath the waves. That was it, then, Silver figured. But before the waves could close over his head, something much bigger rose up from underneath him, pushing his body completely out of the water.

 _I'm delirious_ , Silver thought, and lost the battle with exhaustion.

***

Silver opened his eyes to the grey light of dawn, his ass pushing down against something soft and undoubtedly sandy. A wall of surf crashed over his head, but he managed to find purchase on the sandy ocean floor with his good leg, pushing against it, gasping for breath.

Moments later strong hands caught him under his armpits, dragging him back through the surf. "It's alright. I've got you."

".... Flint?" he managed to gasp, and his lover gave a low, reassuring hum. "Thank god you're not a parrot," Silver returned, and let Flint drag him from the sea. With Flint to support him, he managed to stagger his way up the beach. He was vaguely aware of being pulled under the canopy of trees before he was on his knees again, letting Flint urge him down, his lover's voice a reassuring murmur. At last, exhausted, he slept again.

***

By the time Silver stirred, Flint had two fat fish spitted and roasting over a small fire he'd built on the beach. He settled beside his lover, stroking dark curls back from his face. "Feeling better, darling?"

"I feel like some asshole threw me overboard," Silver muttered, making no attempt to sit up but turning his face into the caress of Flint's hand. "Why do you always go for my ass even as a sea creature?"

"Can I help it if you're irresistible?" Flint smiled down at him. "Just be glad I used my nose - dolphins have rather long phalluses, you know."

"I'm glad to see you're taking our situation so seriously." At that Silver did sit up, pulling from his touch and scowling out at the sea. “Billy Fucking Bones Manderly stole your ship from right under our noses, with everything on it, including, need I remind you, the bloody treasure map you left right in the top drawer of your desk.”

Flint shrugged, leaning forward to test the fish. Satisfied, he propped the spit over some rocks to cool. "A map to a treasure. Not necessarily _the_ treasure." Flint shoved a sea shell full of clear water towards Silver. “Here, it’s fresh water, from a stream nearby.”

Silver’s flingers brushed Flint’s as he took the proffered refreshment, the frown never leaving his features.

“You’ll feel better when you’ve properly hydrated,” Flint added, running his hand down Silver’s arm in what he hoped would be received as a soothing gesture. 

“What are you fucking talking about?” Silver snapped, having drank his fill and set the make-shift chalice aside. “What do you mean not _the_ treasure? I watched you bury it myself.”

“No, you didn’t,” Flint reminded him.

“Fine, I didn’t. But I was nearby at the time!” Silver rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if attempting to recall the events. “I was busy stabbing What’s-his-nuts!”

“Allardyce,” Flint supplied helpfully.

“And?” Silver’s growing frustration was evident.

“That was just the decoy treasure, my love. The real one is long gone.”

“Long gone? What do you mean _long gone_? Long gone _where_ exactly?” Silver gesticulated wildly as the crescendo of questions tumbled out of his mouth.

“Well, I entrusted it to the only person I knew I could really depend on, other than you.” Silver made a gesture of utter and inexhaustible bewilderment. “Your wife,” Flint provided, at last.

“Madi???”

“How many wives do you have?”

"You mean, other than you?"

Flint glared at him. "Do you want to get back to civilization or not?" He took one of the fishes from the spit, judging it cool enough to eat, and thrust it towards Silver. "Here. Eat."

For a time there was blessed silence as the both picked the hot flesh of the fish from its bones. Flint sucked the succulent flesh from his fingers and watched Silver's features soften as his hunger abated.

"Did you really turn into a dolphin last night to save me?" Silver asked finally, sucking a spot of fish from his thumb. "And a whale?"

"Something like that."

"And we can still get the treasure? If we can get off this... wherever this is?"

“We should be a few hours walk from Freetown, if I’m not mistaken. And sure, I am certain Madi took very good care of our treasure.”

“You know,” Silver grinned, “For a moment, I thought you were going to say something utterly saccharine, like the real treasure is right here." He pointed to his own ass and wiggled his eyebrows. 

Flint’s eyes traveled appreciatively down Silver’s body to the point of his finger and settled on the tight globes of his ass. He tossed the picked over skeleton of the fish aside and licked his lips.

“Yeah,” Flint’s voice dropped to a husky whisper. “That is very nice too.”

Silver's smile widened. "I can't believe you're thinking about sex while we're stuck on a deserted island."

"I'm not thinking about sex." A moment was all it took for Flint to stand, moving to where Silver lounged and pressing him back against the tree. “I'm initiating sex. And this island is not deserted. Simply… scarcely settled.”

Silver's fingers trailed over the lines of Flint's hipbones to settle at the small of his back. "So you're saying that someone could, presumably, walk by and see us?"

"If that's what does it for you." Flint grinned, dipping his head to kiss the smirk from Silver's lips.

Silver's clothes were stiff from the sea, especially against his own bare skin. The only thing to be done, Flint decided, was to remove them as soon as possible. "I'm being sensible," he mumbled against Silver's neck, licking down the stubble-roughness of his throat and nibbling at the crook.

"I... alright." Silver, for once, didn't argue, helping tug his shirt off over his head. He ran his hands slowly down Flint's chest, fingers curling briefly in the light tufts of strawberry blond. "You know, as inconvenient as the parrot is, I rather enjoy the aftermath of parrot."

“Technically,” Flint whispered, teeth grazing Silver’s collarbones, “this is aftermath of whale.” His hand caressed the skin of Silver’s inner thigh.

Silver's thighs parted invitingly as his hand drew lower, fingers curling around the base of Flint's erection. "Mm. Aftermath of whale indeed."

Part of Flint - specifically, the part in Silver's grasp - found himself very much wishing that they were back on the _Walrus_ , where talk of glorious schlongs could be followed up by enjoying Silver's very fine ass to the fullest extent. But he would have to save that for later, when they were safely returned to civilization. For now he could certainly enjoy everything else.

Oddly, only the thought of missing lubricant made Flint nostalgic for the _Walrus_. He would’ve thought he’d be more upset; instead he felt strangely unburdened. He looked forward to unburdening his balls the same way that he seemed to have unburdened his soul.

“Come here, you curly menace, let me pleasure you!”

"Menace! Me?" Silver kicked free of his trousers and pressed close regardless, wrapping his good leg over Flint's hip. "Need I remind you of all of the target practice you did this week?"

Flint leaned in to nip at the crook of Silver’s shoulder disapprovingly. "Are you saying you don't want me to pleasure you?"

"Oh no, by all means - oh... yes...."

Flint smiled, flicking his tongue against the head of Silver’s cock, then settling more comfortably between his thighs. Tasting Silver always reminded him a bit of the best parts of the sea - salty-sweet and enthralling. Invigorating, to listen to the soft gasps of pleasure he drew from Silver's lips with expert familiarity as he slowly lavished attention down the length of his cock. He let himself take his time - they had all afternoon and all evening, after all - teasing the sensitive skin lightly with his teeth, moaning approvingly at the way Silver's cock twitched hard under his attentions.

“Ah… _fuck_ ,” Silver arched, his cock spearing further down Flint’s throat. His nails raked over the short hair covering Flint’s scalp. “You’re so good at this. God, you were made for this, weren’t you? Fuck, so glad you’re not a fucking parrot right now!”

Flint flushed from the overabundance of praise and moaned against Silver’s throbbing flesh that filled his mouth out. He didn't even want to pull back long enough to respond to the parrot comment, instead swallowing around his lover's delightful girth, groaning as he did. Fuck the _Walrus_. Fuck Billy Bones. What was sailing and piracy and revenge compared to this, to the incomparable pleasure of pleasing and being pleased, of listening to Silver coming to pieces under his ministrations? He drew back to suckle at the head of Silver’s cock, teasing his tongue against the stretched-tight line of flesh under the cockhead. Then he let his lips slide down the shaft again, almost to the hilt, one hand releasing his grip on Silver's hips to cup and cradle his balls.

"Jesus fuck..." Silver squirmed under him, panting. "Darling, I can't - "

For a brief moment Flint considered drawing back, making Silver beg for release with teasing licks and caresses. Silver's voice was never prettier than in those moments, thick with equal parts pleasure and desperation. Flint’s lips pulled tightly into a smirk around Silver’s cock and he slipped his finger alongside the shaft into his own mouth, slicking it up with his saliva. It would be an unnatural sin to ignore such a glorious ass, after all. 

He pressed the slicked digit back between Silver's thighs, teasing the soft skin behind his balls, then pressing against the tight pucker of his hole. Silver's choked, desperate groan told him all he needed to know, and he worked his finger up into him in slow thrusts.

Silver whimpered, squirming under him, fingers digging into Flint's shoulders as he tried to find purchase. "Oh fuck yeah...."

A beautiful taste of what he'd have later, Flint thought, swallowing down his cock again. He'd fuck Silver into the bed, slow and deep, until his lover was begging him to let him come. And with no _Walrus_ to concern himself with, he could do so whenever he damn well pleased.

He groaned around Silver at the thought, sucking him down more eagerly. He knew his lover's body well, knew the tension that quickly built in his form, muscles tense and tight with pleasure. Craving Silver's release, he fucked his finger up into him with a groan, teasing inside him just right. _Yes, perfect,_ he thought, and as Silver gasped out his pleasure Flint felt him pulse between his lips, coming hot and salty an perfect over his mouth and tongue and down his throat.

Silver was loud, and Flint appreciated letting the loudness free reign, without having to worry that someone might overhear them and get the right idea. Grinning to himself complacently, he slithered slowly up Silver’s body, still savoring his taste on the tip of his tongue, until he could seal their lips together and swallow around another one of Silver’s loud moans.

“Mmmm,” Flint kissed deeply, probing Silver’s mouth with his tongue, pressing the taste of him between Silver’s own lips. “See how good you taste, love?”

Silver’s eyes were hazy and unfocused, half-hidden behind his lowered eyelids. “Fuck…” It appeared his quartermaster and would-be Captain Silver had lost all cogency.

“I look forward to making you scream again in two different languages,” Flint bragged, teeth dragging over the ligaments of Silver’s long neck.

“You’re far too coherent for my liking,” Silver mewled into Flint’s mouth, pulling him closer, wrapping his legs and arms around him until Flint stopped trying to hold himself up and merely collapsed on top of his lover. His hips made one more valiant attempt at thrusting, somewhere, anywhere, in the vicinity of Silver’s smooth and sweat-slicked flesh, while their tongues took their time lazily exploring each other’s mouths. It wasn’t often they could give themselves up to this kind of luxury of leisurely kisses and caresses without any seeming end. “There you are,” Silver whispered, wrapping his clever fingers around Flint’s shaft again. “God, you’re a monster.” Flint growled agreeably as Silver’s hand squeezed and pulled.

Flint breathed in the whisper of his words, hips pushing into his palm. Silver's grip, slick with Flint's own arousal, tightened on him slightly, heaven in the palm of one beautiful man. "So much better than piracy," Flint gasped, now that he could speak without having his mouth full. "Fuck the rest of them. We'll - oh fuck, we'll just fuck happily ever after...."

"Fuck happily ever after?" Silver nipped at Flint’s bottom lip, chuckling low and throatily. He started to work Flint's cock more quickly as he stuttered up into his palm. "Now Captain Flint, that almost sounds romantic."

"As romantic as - mmph, as the pearl jewelry I'm about to give you," Flint gasped. He pressed a hard kiss to Silver's mouth, then looked between them, watching the head of his cock push from Silver's fist as he fucked it. A few more thrusts were all it took, and then he was spilling, spurting white drops in Silver's fingers and over the tanned skin of his abdomen. The sight of his seed adorning Silver’s skin gave Flint a particularly nice feeling of possession, and he drew a wet lick up Silver’s neck one more time to punctuate it before collapsing in breathless bliss.

“So, what now?” Silver asked, in a post-coital haze, nuzzled into Flint’s arms.

“Now,” Flint exhaled and pressed him closer, “we get ourselves over to Freetown, charter a boat back to the Maroon camp, kill that crew, gather up Madi and the rest of the treasure, and get the fuck out of there before anyone else knows what happened.” Flint shrugged, considering his plan to be a sound and rational one. “What’s the point of sticking around, anyways? Everyone already thinks I’m either dead or gardening in Savannah, or both.”

“And how,” Silver purred, “do you propose that we get to Freetown? With me missing a leg and you missing all of your clothes?”

“I can turn into a parrot again,” Flint laughed, nibbling on Silver’s earlobe.

“Well, that’s not going to help me walk, is it?”

“I could turn into a beast of burden,” Flint wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Aye, now you’re talking,” Silver bit Flint’s lower lip in approbation. “I bet you'd make a very cute llama. I could ride your ass all the way to Freetown.”

“You keep talking that way, we’ll never get to Freetown,” Flint pointed out, his own hand tightening over one of the pert globes of Silver’s ass.

Silver drew a soft hiss, wiggling closer. "Well... we don't have to leave right away, do we?"

Flint leaned in to capture his mouth, warm and lingering. "I don't know," he teased, smiling against Silver’s lips. "You're the one talking about wanting to ride a llama's ass."

"You fuck!" Silver smacked Flint's ass in indignation. "You know, I think I liked you better as a parrot!"

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done, but not quite! Proceed to the Crapilogue!


	9. Crapilogue

The _Walrus_ clipped along the ocean waves in the pre-dawn light. DeGroot, appearing from the cabin to relieve the morning watch, rubbed his eyes and took his bearings.

Tortuga, again.

The commands of one Billy "Bones" Manderly sounded out over the deck, directing the crew of the ship as she made her way into the port. "Look sharp, men! We have a missing crewmember to find!"

Making his way to where Billy towered at the bow, DeGroot noted a particularly nonchalant confidence to the man. "I didn't realize the Captain had given the order to return to Tortuga."

"Captain Silver," Billy said evenly, "has taken it upon himself to give up the account. I believe he said something about a sudden penchant for gardening."

Before DeGroot could remark upon Silver's sudden change of heart, a cry went up from the crowsnest. "Billy! It's Ben Gunn!"

DeGroot followed more sedately as Billy rushed to the rail. The gloomy fog of morning parted over the piers of Tortuga, revealing a figure standing tall at the end of the one they approached. Tall and triumphant, despite ragged and bloodstained clothing. Under one arm, wrapped in oilcloth, was a large, distinctly round package.

“Ben!” Billy rushed down the gangplank as soon as it thunked down into place on the pier. “My sweet little love nugget!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around his beloved. “I worried I may never see you again!”

“I told Captain Silver I would not fail in this mission,” Ben declared proudly, as he blushed from the overabundance of affection being lavished upon him. “And now, as promised, I have delivered.” He pointed to the round package under his arm. “I had to turn half the island upside down to locate it, you know. I tortured two men, killed five or six more. But at last, just when I was about to give up all hope, I located and seized it, and now it is ours.” His eyes sparked with a savage and fierce fire. “Now, where is Silver? I need to take this Parmesan to him.”

After being at sea as long as he had, there were things you came to know. Of those things, DeGroot was fairly certain - there had been no hidden stores of Parmesan on Tortuga. Perhaps in the future he should deal with Mr. Gunn with a certain level of respect. Or, more likely, a wariness.

“He’s… gone, my Bennikins. And the prize is yours to keep,” Billy uttered, wiping a streak of blood from his lover’s face.

“Blimey!” Ben pronounced, and immediately, shifted the package in his hands to hide a sudden bulge in his trousers.

“That man would sell his mother out for a piece of cheese,” Joji pronounced with a grave countenance, looking over DeGroot’s shoulder upon the scene that played itself out on the pier of Tortuga. “Do we really want to keep sailing with those two in command?”

DeGroot shrugged. “We can always call a vote to select a new captain.”

“Why can’t we get Flint back?” Joji frowned, crossing his arms.

"Because," DeGroot said calmly, "Captain Flint has clearly demonstrated that he prefers a life of Parrotcy to a life of Piracy."

Joji's brows knit as he contemplated his words. "Well, I suppose when a man decides he needs to be a parrot there's nothing you can do to change his mind."

“Do you think someone should tell Billy?” DeGroot grinned.

The two pirates looked over to the pier once again, where Ben Gunn was busy shoving the miraculous cheese down his trousers while Billy Bones fussed and cooed over him.

“Nah,” they both echoed at the same time.

“Let him think Flint went to drink himself to death in Savannah, as Silver said,” Joji concluded.

“I think Billy may have killed Silver,” DeGroot mused, turned away and heading to the mess hall.

“Impossible,” Joji shook his head. “That man has at least nine lives.”

"Not a terrible companion for a parrot, then. They say those birds can even outlive a man."

“To Captain Flint, then!” Joji picked up a flagon of rum and raised it in salute.

"To Captain Flint," DeGroot agreed, drinking deeply. "And who knows - perhaps when we finally return for his treasure, his voice will still ring in our ears - Pieces of Eight!"

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you enjoyed the adventures of parrot/dolphin/whale/llama!Flint and his beloved Long John Silver! We'll be back in the near future with more, better ridiculousness.
> 
> In the meantime, we'd like to take a moment to send love to the Black Sails family and to the rest of the world who might be feeling like there isn't enough love in the world right now. We can't fix everything, but we can offer you this crack <3

**Author's Note:**

> This is why we cannot be left alone. Don't leave us alone! Tell us about your thoughts and feels!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Parrocy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8337844) by [OnlyOneWoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/pseuds/OnlyOneWoman)




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